


love in the air

by chasingjupiter



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Airplanes, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 09:08:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15682335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingjupiter/pseuds/chasingjupiter
Summary: airplane cuddles ft. yuzusho





	love in the air

All Shoma can feel is utter cold.

The air around him is stifling and stagnant, his lungs dreading each inhale and uneager to exhale. It's so sterile and unfriendly, it carries a foreign scent of the strangers around him and the odor of what can only be called  _canned air_.  
It's essentially what it is. The airplane is a metal container filled with canned air that picks up the smallest of smells, from the god-awful airplane food to the wet wipes being handed out. Shoma shuts his eyes tightly and bites down on his bottom lip, each second stretching out like putty being tugged on from both ends. He dimly wonders how long it's been since they departed Japan and chances a glance at the time on the grainy screen in front of him.  
It's been three minutes since he last checked. So a whole three hours in the air does this to him.  
Usually he'd be able to sleep through the flight - passed out, as Kanako likes to tease him - but the air seems colder than usual. Freezing.

He fidgets with the thin blanket they'd given him and sighs, long and slow, regretting his clothing choices this morning. They were flying to California, so he'd hoped that something lighter would be reasonable, but he hadn't considered that the airplane would be a fucking icebox.  
Shoma curls into himself and pretends he's taking a nap in the ice rink, surrounded by what he loves, trying to erase the sound of a baby wailing and the engines making as much noise as possible to rival the baby.

It's going to be a long, long eight more hours.

 

Shoma squeezes his eyes shut for the fourth time since he'd woken up. A short half hour nap left him crankier than before, and his meager attempts to return to the sweet bliss of sleep prove futile. Oh, how he wishes he were back in the hotel, face pushed into a clean pillow that smelled like lotus, not airplane odor and sweat. He lets out another sigh, laced with a whine of frustration.  
He's just about to give up and resign himself to watching another stupid movie with no plot when a sudden warmth settles over his shoulders. He starts, opens his eyes, peers up at the figure who's leaning over him.

"Oh!" Yuzuru says in surprise. "I'm sorry, I thought you were asleep and you were shivering, so..."

Shoma blinks at him and looks at the jacket placed carefully on him. It's still warm, miraculously, and it smells like Yuzuru's shampoo and candy. Even better.

"Thank you," he remembers to say, and sinks into his arms, uncomfortably shifting so his nose doesn't touch the cold plastic surface of the table tray. Yuzuru merely smiles, nods, and sits back down, putting his earbuds back in with practiced ease.  
Shoma wonders how Yuzuru noticed he was shivering when he himself didn't even notice. It's not surprising, since it's still frigid in here, but again, Yuzuru's sitting behind him and couldn't have possibly felt him shaking in his seat. He'd thought the mild trembling had been turbulence - he'll admit that he's not very observant when it comes to himself or his surroundings - but apparently he'd been shivering with the force of an airplane being suspended in the sky.

The jacket brings him warmth and a sense of content, the kind of relaxed sensation you get from the first rays of the sun hitting your back, or from the spray of a hot shower after hours of ice battering your skin. He sighs and breathes in the smell it gives, sweet but almost minty, and sinks back into his seat. This is okay. He can fall asleep like this.

Except he can't. Despite the comfort of the position he's in (curled up in his seat, jacket wrapped firmly around his shoulders, sleeves covering his nose), the blissful release of sleep is being stubborn and refusing to rear its ugly head. Shoma doesn't know how long it's been - a glance at the screen says a mere thirty minutes from his last check -  but he usually falls asleep  _much_  faster than this, and he's about to fucking scream, or cry, anything to voice his frustrations. If he were home, he'd maybe get something to eat, resign himself to a sleepless night and game until his eyes fall shut, but his phone is dead and the dumb charging port isn't working. He's almost desperate enough to beg Yuzuru to lend him some more clothes to inhale, maybe plead for his arms too, but again,  _almost_ , so he buries his head in his arms and waits impatiently for the soft folds of sleep to envelop him.

Instead of sleep enveloping him, a different warmth wraps around him, and he opens his eyes in surprise to see Yuzuru smiling at him with gentle eyes.

"Can't sleep?" he says softly, a pitying look etched in his face. Shoma feels his throat tighten.

"Maybe," he replies, then twists to check behind him. "How'd you get here? Weren't you sitting back there?"

Yuzuru laughs, Shoma doesn't know why, and he pats Shoma's back in a way that makes him want to slap Yuzuru's hand away. "Yeah, but I just asked to switch. It's really not that difficult."

_For you, maybe._

Shoma shakes his head and turns away. He doesn't know if he wants to ask Yuzuru to go away or to keep rubbing the lazy circles on his back, and it's agonizing, really. So agonizing that he makes a sound in his throat and the circles stop abruptly. Shoma's going crazy. He's about to roughly grab Yuzuru's arm and smack it back into place, because once the circles have stopped, so has Shoma's steady breathing.  
A few minutes pass (or maybe a few days, or maybe a few seconds) and Yuzuru resumes the languid strokes. Shoma sighs with embarrassing relief and squeezes his eyes shut again, hoping that maybe this time, with Yuzuru's presence an excruciating four inches away, he'll be able to fall asleep.

He does, for a short while. It's not a great nap. Shortlived, leaving him more tired than before. When he opens his eyes in protest, Yuzuru is looking at him, and he swiftly looks back at his book.

"Why'd you stop?" Shoma croaks, horrified at the way his voice sounds after a maybe thirty minute nap.

Yuzuru looks at him curiously, tilts his head to signify that no, he has no idea what Shoma's talking about, and he's really not eager to keep this up.

"Nevermind," he whispers hoarsely, turning back around, eyes watering painfully. He's about to furiously wipe his eyes when Yuzuru's hand settles back on his back, and slowly, terribly slowly, drags his fingers across his back in some semblance of the soothing strokes from earlier. It feels good to Shoma's touch-starved back, and he relaxes almost immediately. Yuzuru's hand is more hesitant than before, more cautious, and Shoma wants to launch himself at Yuzuru and tell him to be less careful, that he's not a porcelain doll or a weak baby kitten (debatable).  
When Shoma wakes up, the screen informs him that there are only three hours left in the flight -  _bless_ \- and he almost jumps when he realizes that he's in Yuzuru's arms, his chin resting on his head. Yuzuru's eyes are closed, lashes casting light shadows on his cheekbones, and he looks so at peace that Shoma feels immensely guilty when his eyes open, probably because Shoma's shifted uncomfortably.

"Sorry," Yuzuru says quietly, and Shoma's almost outraged that his voice sounds just as normal after sleeping when his own sounds like someone's run him over with a truck. "You kept flailing in your sleep, and I didn't want you to disrupt the other passenger next to you."

Yuzuru's sensible explanation leaves him more annoyed, because why does he have to be so reasonable? Why couldn't he have just said that he wanted to hold him, or that he couldn't sleep? Shoma doesn't say anything, just glares at him briefly before turning and pushing his face into Yuzuru's chest, breathing in his smell, relishing the abnormal tempo of his chest rising and falling. Finally something, something that shows that Yuzuru isn't as unfazed as he looks, and Shoma feels smug satisfaction at the way Yuzuru's hold on him tightens.

"You boys are so cute," someone says, and Shoma can nearly hear Kanako's annoying voice in it, but she's not on this flight, so it must be the person on his left. "I wish I had a relationship like you two back in the day."

Yuzuru stiffens, and Shoma looks up to smile sleepily. "Thanks," he says, taking pleasure in the way Yuzuru's breath catches. He's enjoying himself, teasing Yuzuru. Finally a way to pay him back for all the teasing he's suffered at his hands.  
When Shoma peers up to see Yuzuru's expression, all he can see are wide eyes and bitten lips, and Shoma leans up, latches his arms around Yuzuru's neck, smiles slightly. He's almost, almost certain that what's he's going to do is going to fuck this all up, ruin his hopes for something like this to happen again, but still, post-nap Shoma is reckless, so he does what he's been aching to do for the past hour, even in his fitful dreams.

Shoma makes eye contact as he inches closer, presses his lips to Yuzuru's earnestly, then closes them when he registers how impossibly soft his lips are, even while raw from being chewed on. He intends for the kiss to be short, to be a one-time fuck it situation where Yuzuru is disgusted and switches seats immediately, but Yuzuru's kissing him back, and this feeling is so poignant and overwhelming that he thinks that he'll cry just from kissing Yuzuru.  
It tastes like how Yuzuru's jacket smells: soft and clean, sweet in a somehow naive way, painfully domestic and intimate. It's exhilarating, tasting the same air Yuzuru tastes, their mouths lined up perfectly, hands gripping the back of his shirt tightly as if trying to hold Yuzuru back from leaving.  
They part for breaths with ease, always being drawn back to each other like magnets, lips once having found each other reluctant to let go, and Shoma might just melt in Yuzuru's embrace the way he has always, deep down, wanted to.

When they actually, really, finally part, Shoma stares at Yuzuru with an aching hunger to see every part of Yuzuru, to feel him vulnerable like this, to see Yuzuru be human around him, a different being from the one on ice, the king of the world. To see Yuzuru want him the way he wants Yuzuru, and fuck, he wants it all. He wants to wake up in the morning with Yuzuru by his side, to skate hand in hand like couples do on dates, to kiss up on lockers and behind curtains and far, far away from cameras. He wants to be by Yuzuru's side, to be someone Yuzuru can count on, to be Yuzuru's number one because Yuzuru is already his number one, always has been. He doesn't know how to tell Yuzuru that he wants everything, that he's greedy for more of Yuzuru, for his hands and his chest, and his arms, and his dark eyes, and his smoothly sculpted nose, and even more, his pink, wet lips that were on his moments ago.

"I like you," Yuzuru breathes, eyes tender and shiny, and Shoma wants to smack him. God, he's so  _dense_ , but he loves him all the same.

"I like you too, idiot," he responds, burying his nose into Yuzuru's neck. He lets his tongue playfully dart out and practically  _cackles_ when Yuzuru jumps, and he feels his chest settle in satisfaction. "I like you a lot."

Yuzuru's mouth breaks into a smile, and his cheeks are light pink now too. He's startlingly beautiful now of all times, and Shoma kisses his smile, kisses his nose, kisses his cheeks. "I like you a lot too," Yuzuru says, kissing him full on the mouth, effectively stopping his wandering lips.

When they land, Yuzuru helps him with his luggage, looks at him with fond eyes when he trips getting out of the plane. It's everything to Shoma. Yuzuru's smile, Yuzuru's cautious hands, Yuzuru's giggles. Shoma pecks him on the lips to shut him up and they leave with Yuzuru's hand covering Shoma's on his suitcase handle.

He finds that he doesn't care when his teammates point at them unsubtly, or when Mihoko looks at their hands pointedly. It feels good to be finally get off a flight not half-dead.


End file.
